


Prologue: In Kirkwall

by FandomN00b



Series: Lost and Found: The Misadventures of Marian Hawke and Everyone She Meets [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders struggles, F/M, Fenris silently pines for everyone, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hawke Flirts, M/M, Multi, Other, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomN00b/pseuds/FandomN00b
Summary: Some fluffy, flirty, kissy, fun, feel-good, and obligatorily angsty moments taken from Hawke and co.'s time in Kirkwall leading up to the main storyline in this series, which really begins at the end of DA2 (Parts I - idk...V?).Updates will be ongoing.





	1. Fools

**Author's Note:**

> Many of these were written as flashbacks or background/foreshadowing to the head canon storyline, but things got...messy. As they do. So until I can figure out how to publish all of this in some interactive hypertext format, where you can dip in and out of different time frames as you please, I'm just going to try and string these events together in some kind of chronological fashion and put them out there.
> 
> These chapters all mostly fit within canon, with some minor liberties taken in terms of timing/quest references/etc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke tries to get Anders and Fenris excited about a job for Isabela with her awkward jokes and hugs.

\---

They met that evening at the Hanged Man, as planned. Well, almost.

Fenris was there first, as usual, drinking alone at a table in the corner of the bar. He could’ve been there all day for all anyone knew, blending into the shadows and noise, quietly sipping a glass of wine, and seething in quiet rage about how inferior it was to the fine Tevinter wine he had been hatefully imbibing from Danarius’ cellar since he'd moved into his former master's estate, waiting for him to return so he could exact his revenge and free himself, once and for all.

Hawke pulled a chair up and sat across from him with a shot of whiskey for herself, which she downed before her ass even hit the chair. She was early, by her standards, only 15 minutes later than they’d all agreed upon, so she tried to make polite conversation while they waited for Anders.

“So Fenris…”

“Hawke.”

“How’s the...err, mansion?”

“Still full of dead bodies.”

“Good, good…”

Thankfully, Anders came sweeping in full of anxious, flourishing energy shortly after Hawke, declining any service from the barmaid, as he made his way toward them in a few long strides. He had had a full day at the clinic: Two babies, three cases of pneumonia, multiple stab wounds on a couple of Coterie recruits with few questions asked, broken ribs and black eyes on two brothers who’d gotten into a fight over their deceased father’s Fereldan sword and armor, and a kid who’d fallen down a mine shaft and broken an arm and a leg. On top of that, Aveline had seen him on his way here, and tipped him off that the Templars had asked for the City Guard’s cooperation in a Darktown raid in search of apostates hiding among the refugees. So he still needed to find a place to stay tonight.

Normally, Varric would have joined them, at least for drinks before and after, but he was out of town dealing with some ‘family business’ he refused to tell them anything about. And someone else was conspicuously absent, too.

“Where is Isabela? I thought we were doing this favor for _her_ ‘friend?’” Anders asked, sounding a bit more irritable than usual.

“She had something come up at the last minute,” Hawke shrugged.

“Oh, she did, did she? Was it sex or booze or something shiny?” he grumbled. He had intended to ask her if he could stay with her at the Hanged Man tonight, or at least to help him break into Varric’s suite.

“You know? She didn’t really say! Maybe all three? Lucky girl...” Hawke laughed. “And it’s not really her ‘friend’ we’re doing this for, so much as an acquaintance whose bad side she’d rather avoid.”

“Suspicious,” Fenris muttered into his wine. Varric and Isabela, the two members of their group most connected to the criminal underbelly of the city, suddenly both having something better to do than join them on this job was, admittedly, a bit dubious.

“Nah. She got me all caught up on the details before she left this morning. It’s an easy pick-up, drop-off kinda thing.”

Anders looked at her in surprise. “This...morning…?” There was a hint of betrayal in his eyes.

Hawke shrugged, looking only a little bit guilty. She didn’t make any further efforts to explain herself.

Fenris watched them both carefully. She and Anders had been acting like idiots whenever they were around each other lately. Flirting nonstop. Sneaking little glances. And recently, Hawke had begun to shamelessly take advantage of every opportunity she was given to touch him. A hand on a shoulder that lingered more than the casual gesture of friendship it was pretending to be. Fingertips ‘accidentally’ dragged across his arm or back. He’d even seen her pretend to stumble over some cobblestones the other day just to fall into him. She was a skilled, physical fighter, who could seem invisible when she wanted to be because of the way she moved in battle, not by any magic spell or diversion or smoke screen. Coordination was kind of her thing. It irritated Fenris to no end to see her acting like such a clumsy mess. And Anders only seemed to be encouraging it.

Fenris felt his lyrium markings start to itch a little. _No. Do not let this matter to you._

He took a deep breath, and the feeling subsided. He could leave the paranoia and jealousy all to Anders.

But Fenris did raise an eyebrow at the foolish young woman they all somehow allowed to blithely lead them into danger on a daily basis, as he questioned his own life choices that had led him to her. Hawke’s willful naivete was one of her most charming and infuriating character traits. One would think, after all the shit she’d seen, she’d be a little more cautious about blindly trusting others. Fenris had seen the way Isabela had been cozying up to Hawke last night. She must have wanted to get into her good graces before asking her to do her dirty work.

All of this only made him even more suspicious of the job. He’d still go along, of course, because they needed someone with at least some amount of sense and a sword to get them out of trouble if it was indeed a trap, which he was most certain it was.

“ _Anyway_...seems like it’s just us guys this evening,” Hawke mused. She slung one arm brusquely over Anders’ wide shoulders, and the other around Fenris’ neck. Fenris’ lyrium markings lit up suddenly as he violently wrenched her off of him, sending her crashing into Anders. At least she didn’t need to _pretend_ she’d fallen into his arms this time.

The tavern went quiet for just a moment while everyone turned to see what had caused the commotion, but without any swords brandished or blood or dismemberment, the three of them couldn’t really hold the bar patrons’ interest for long.

After everyone had recovered, Fenris spoke, in a low, gravelly rasp, “Please don’t ever do that again.”

She nodded, her eyes wide with apology. “Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t thinking...” Hawke looked genuinely contrite and embarrassed, not angry, not hurt by his forceful rejection of her affection. Not even scared, though they all knew he could’ve easily killed her if he’d have wanted to. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Good,” he grunted, then, in a slightly less icy tone, “Thank you.” His brands had begun to fade back to normal again.

Hawke just kept nodding. She was by nature a hands-on, affectionate person. If Bethany or Carver were anywhere within reach, she often had her arm around at least some part of them. Carver pretended to be annoyed by his sister’s affection, but it was something they’d grown up with, and it reminded him of their father, who had never missed an opportunity to show his children how much he loved them.

When she walked alongside Aveline, Hawke often tucked her arm under the Guardsman’s, as though she were escorting the tall, dignified woman to some formal affair. Hawke and Varric shook hands, sometimes wrists, sometimes even elbows, whenever they greeted each other or parted ways. Even Merrill was beginning to enjoy the high fives and side squeezes, though they had been initially so foreign and strange to her. Her clan had plenty of ways of showing affection, of course, but she was utterly fascinated by the act of clumsily slapping one’s palm into another’s to recognize some minor achievement or point of agreement.

But Hawke had always tried to be respectful of Fenris’ desire not to be touched. She had never asked why, never questioned his ‘prickliness’ as some people called it. Not since the first failed arm squeeze, an attempt to show her gratitude for his saving her life with a swing of his massive sword that had managed to decapitate not one, but two slavers who had suddenly appeared behind her in some filthy narrow cavern. She’d seen how he froze at her unexpected touch, his eyes wide and panicked, and, as clueless as she often seemed about other people’s discomfort, she realized immediately that she’d crossed a line with him. She hadn’t touched him again since then. Not until just now, anyway, in her over-exuberance to include him.

Anders eyed him cautiously. “You seem a little more on edge than usual today, Fenris. And by that, I mean, like, the lyrium feels like it might literally jump right off of you and attack the nearest mage.”

_WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO FURTHER PROVOKE HIM? AND YES...THE LYRIUM IS ESPECIALLY...STIMULATING…_

_Cool it, old man. Don’t make it weird._

“I’m not too enthusiastic about being led straight into a trap someone has obviously set for Isabela.”

“She wouldn’t let that happen…at least I don’t think so.” Hawke was clearly keeping something from them. And Fenris sensed it wasn’t just about what salacious activities she and Isabela had been up to last night.

“Hawke’s right. She may be a filthy, lusty scoundrel, but she wouldn’t knowingly betray us. Not without some larger plot to just use us as bait and then swoop in and rescue us at the last minute or something.”

Fenris was still not satisfied. “Do you even hear yourselves right now?”

“Honestly? There’s a lot going on in here.” Anders tapped a finger to his temple and made a face he hoped would remind Fenris of what it looked like when Justice took over, but he really had no idea what that face looked like or how to make it on purpose, so he just looked like an asshole.

_THAT’S NOT AT ALL WHAT I LOOK LIKE!_

Fenris glared at him. “Fasta vass, mage.”

_YOU’VE ANGERED HIM!_

_I’m just messing with him. Trying to relieve some of this tension..._

Anders stuck his tongue out at him, and Fenris shuddered in exaggerated disgust. Irritating him was putting Anders in a better mood, at least.

_IT DOESN’T SEEM TO BE WORKING._

_You have so much to learn, Spirit._

“Where are we headed to, then, Hawke?” Fenris finally asked, with a resigned sigh.

“It’ll be fun, I promise. And lots of gold as a reward. Our first stop is at the Docks. We should get going. We’re already kinda late.”

“Of course…”

\---


	2. Clemence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke tries to get her favorite boys to come with her to a tea party at Merrill's. Metaphors abound.

\---

They made their way toward the Alienage in silence for a little while, Hawke hanging back with Anders, and Fenris marching grumpily a few steps ahead of them. They were going to meet Merrill there, as promised, to pay her a social visit, much to the protests of both Fenris and Anders, who disagreed on literally everything else except that Merrill was a reckless blood mage and a danger to them all.

“You’ll see! It’ll be fun! Merrill is making tea. She is an excellent host,” Hawke had told them, but they both just looked at each other in horror. “Plus, Isabela will be there, and I know you and her have been hanging out a lot, right Fenris?” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. It reminded him of someone he hated, and it made him want to punch her.

But she wasn’t him. She could never be that monster. She was just a silly girl who, fortunately for her, could never understand what his life had been like before they met.

So instead of punching her, he just glared back at her for a bit, then continued marching on ahead toward Merrill’s apartment. He was certainly not about to explain to Hawke that the relationship between him and Isabela was not some kind of romantic affair, but a therapeutic friendship. When they weren’t off killing slavers, though that was certainly gratifying, she had been helping him work through some of his shit. It turned out, she, too, had some firsthand experience as someone’s pet, their plaything, their property. And, contrary to his initial impressions, she could be exceptionally kind and understanding as she gently prodded at the painful memories and non-memories of his past, helping him to safely experience new things, make new memories, and gradually rebuild his humanity now that he had a life that he’d reclaimed for himself.

The silence was unbearable for Hawke after only a few minutes, so she tried another topic.

“Hey Anders! We haven’t heard about what’s-their-name for a few days. Everything alright?”

“Who?”

“Your new ‘friend’...” Fenris grumbled up ahead. Hawke lit up. He _was_ listening! They were very nearly having an actual conversation!

“Oh, I think they’re more than _friends_!” Hawke nudged Anders with her bony elbow right in the ribs. It wasn’t the gentlest of affection, but he’d take it. From her.

Fenris sighed and rolled his eyes at Hawke, who barely noticed. For as witty as she thought she was, she could be really slow to pick up on his own attempts at humor, dry and sarcastic as they were. Especially when she was distracted by something more sparkly or animated. Or someone. Namely, the mage.

“I honestly don't know what _either_ of you are talking about,” Anders insisted.

“Oh please...you talk about them all the time, right Fenris?”

“Clemence, was it?”

“Yeah! That’s it! You’re always like, ‘Clemence looked so cute today. Clemence came for another visit. I made Clemence dinner last night. I hope Clemence will stay longer next time. Clemence Clemence _Clemence_!’”

Anders’ looked at both of them in disbelief for a moment. They were kidding, right? Hawke was, of course, constantly teasing him about all his supposed admirers. But she was usually way more obvious about it. And Fenris...he wasn’t sure Fenris even _had_ a sense of humor. They must have thought -- he suddenly burst out into laughter.

“The Abomination is losing it. Say the word, Hawke, and I will take care of him,” Fenris muttered.

Anders felt Justice stirring.

_He’s kidding, Justice. Relax._

“You think that _Clemence_ is a --" Anders couldn’t contain his delight as a second fit of laughter overtook him.

Hawke looked at Fenris. Did _he_ know what was so hilarious? He simply shrugged back at her and kept walking. He always seemed so irritated and impatient with the mage. She had really hoped this casual conversation between the three of them might have lasted more than a few minutes, but it seemed Fenris had already lost interest.

_YOU CANNOT ALLOW THIS MISUNDERSTANDING TO CONTINUE. IT ISN’T RIGHT. AND SURELY A CAT IS NOT A SUITABLE PARTNER FOR A HUMAN, ANYWAY. HOW WOULD YOU KNOW IF IT HAD GIVEN PROPER CONSENT?_

_Cats are actually pretty clear when it comes to giving consent, or taking it away. But that’s hardly the most pressing issue in this entirely ridiculous hypothetical situation you’ve suggested…_

_WHY DO YOU FIND THIS SO AMUSING?_

_It’s just that...oh, nevermind._

“Oh wow! Okay! Sorry…” He took a deep breath. “Clemence is a cat! A stray I’ve been feeding and trying to convince to hang around the clinic to keep the mice and rats at bay!”

“Oohhhh…” Hawke was trying to hide her obvious relief. It was one thing to tease Anders about having multiple boyfriends and girlfriends, but she had really begun to worry he’d started seeing someone. Someone that wasn’t her. “But wait! Can’t you just kill rodents with traps, or...magic?”

“Cats are better at it. And good company, too.”

 _SO YOU_ **_DO_ ** _DESIRE A RELATIONSHIP WITH THIS FELINE?_

_Justice...no._

“Disagree,” Fenris muttered up in front of them, more to himself than to either of them. But at least he was still listening!

_THE ELF AGREES WITH ME. WHY NOT SPEND A LITTLE MORE TIME GETTING TO KNOW HIM? HE SMELLS LIKE HOME..._

_Maybe because he hates everything that we are? Besides, if I can’t be with Hawke, you can’t be with him. It’s only fair. And he’s not agreeing with you. He’s disagreeing with me._

Hawke lowered her voice a little, but not nearly enough to prevent Fenris from overhearing her ask Anders, “Sooo...you’re single, then?”

Fenris was far enough ahead of them now that he believed no one could see the scowl on his face, but Anders noticed how his shoulders jerked up ever-so-slightly and the muscles in his neck tightened as he overheard Hawke’s question.

Anders responded by being even more coy and flirtatiously evasive than usual. “Single? Well, there’s Justice…”

He felt Fenris’ scowl intensify into something like disgust, with a hint of Fear.

_See, Justice? I know you can feel that._

But Justice had gone quiet.

“No _romantic_ interests, though?” She leaned closer to him, a quirky smile on her lips.

He pretended to be oblivious to her advances. “Why? Is someone...interested?”

Hawke was in on his game, of course, and enjoying it just as much as he was. She batted her eyelashes up at him, and made no attempt at subtlety.

He, of course, was loving all the attention from her. And he had always enjoyed being pursued. So long as it wasn’t a Templar pursuing him. It had been a long time since he could trust someone enough to let them. But most of the danger Hawke represented was to herself. She was brash, if not a bit blundering, and totally adorable. What was the harm in humoring her? Flirting was an innocent game...at least that’s what he tried to convince Justice of.

“Oh, no reason.” Hawke shrugged, suddenly withdrawing her gaze and skipping playfully ahead of him. It was a bold move. But she somehow seemed to know what she was doing.

Anders laughed, trying not to sound as nervous as he suddenly was. She may have been a bright, socially-clueless mess much of the time, but she was actually quite good at _this_. At playing him just right to the point where he found her utterly irresistible. Maybe it wasn’t a game at all, and this was just who she was. If so, it made her even more appealing. He had half-hoped that the things he felt developing between them were unrequited delusions, for her sake. And because Justice seemed dead set against it. But apparently, spirits didn’t understand how flirting turned into something more, because Justice was still quiet, for now.

“I’m afraid anyone interested in any kind of relationship with _me_ must love cats.” He declared loudly toward Fenris, because it had always been easier for him to flirt with or about people who clearly hated him.

“I just have a thing for strays, I guess…” Hawke was about halfway between them. And it was unclear who she was referring to. It may very well have been both of them.

Fenris had had enough. He huffed at them in disgust and stomped even further ahead, completely out of earshot, removing himself from the conversation.

“I think he likes you,” Anders whispered.

“Why me? Maybe it’s _you_.”

Anders laughed again. This was more genuine laughter than he’d had cause to produce in months. His sides were getting sore, the muscles there having gotten weak with misuse.

“I’m pretty sure he’d have impaled me with that giant sword of his or ripped out my heart already if it weren’t for you.”

“You’re welcome, then!” Hawke was back at his side, beaming up at him. She wasn’t playing a part anymore. This was earnest, genuine admiration. And it made him even more nervous than before.

“Yeah...thanks…I guess.” Anders was trying desperately to look away, working so hard not to return the mirth and delight he saw dancing around in her eyes. But he couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from hers.

It only made Hawke more determined not to drop it. She lowered her voice for real this time. “About you and me, though…?”

“You don’t want any part of this, Hawke. I promise. I’m a total disaster. And you...you’ve got a lot going for you right now, what with the expedition coming up and your mother’s family’s status. The _last_ thing you want is -- ”

“Okay, yeah. Keep playing hard to get. I love a challenge.”

“That’s not -- "

“You just wait! You are gonna fall sooo in love with me. Back in Lothering, I had men, women, dwarves, Chantry sisters...basically everyone in town wanted me. Sure, they all died or got turned into Darkspawn, but...” And she was back to silly games. Did she really think he wasn’t interested in her?

Anders smiled, a bit sheepishly. “How do you know I'm not already?”

This was dangerous, reckless even, and he knew he’d have to suffer through Justice’s scolding, but he couldn’t bear to let her think he was rejecting her.

“Wait, what?” It was Hawke’s turn to giggle nervously. She blushed, that playful confidence gone for a moment.

He wanted to kiss her then, but he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t fair. He was a doomed man, and doomed men were not allowed to steal kisses or return the affections of people who actually cared about them. They definitely weren’t allowed to pursue romantic relationships with young, vibrant, beautiful, headstrong, idealistic fighters who had their entire future lives ahead of them.

_YOU CANNOT EMBARK ON THIS ROMANCE._

Justice boomed suddenly back into Anders’ consciousness, startling him out of the unexpectedly tender moment that had arisen between him and Hawke as they both stood there, blushing at each other, unsure how to proceed.

_Go away, old man! I know!_

_I WILL NOT. HAWKE IS ONLY A SILLY GIRL. SHE DOESN’T YET UNDERSTAND WHAT WE MUST DO._

_You mean what you are forcing me to do?_

_YOU INVITED ME INTO YOUR BODY AND SOUL TO HELP YOU RIGHT THE WRONGS OF THIS WORLD._

_Hawke is a good person. She fights for the same causes._

_SHE IS NAIVE AND DOES NOT YET KNOW THE EXTENT OF THE EVILS THAT WE FACE. SHE MAY NOT PROVE UP TO THE TASK._

_How exactly have I proven myself ‘UP TO THE TASK’?_

_YOU ARE WILLING TO SACRIFICE YOURSELF. YOU HAVE ALREADY DONE SO. BOTH AS A WARDEN AND AS A HEALER._

_Hawke has proven herself to be just as selfless when it comes to defending her friends and helping others in need._

_SHE IS DRIVEN BY HER OWN INTERESTS. HER OWN DESIRE TO UPLIFT HERSELF AND HER FAMILY NAME. SHE IS PRIDEFUL, AND SHE IS ALSO LAZY AND INDULGENT. SHE COULD EASILY BE OVERTAKEN BY PRIDE, GREED, OR SLOTH._

_She is not going to be ‘overtaken’ by demons. She is too strong and stubborn for that. And it is her right to look out for herself and her family. It should be anyone’s right!_

_YOU ARE A MAGE. MAGES ARE NOT GIVEN THE SAME RIGHTS. YOU KNOW THIS. THAT IS WHY YOU WERE WILLING TO TAKE ME IN. TO FIGHT SO THAT OTHER MAGES COULD ENJOY THE FREEDOMS THAT YOU HAVE NOT. YOU HAVE ALLOWED HER, IN THIS SHORT TIME YOU’VE KNOWN HER, TO DISTRACT YOU FROM OUR PURPOSE._

_...I’m sorry. You’re right. Just...let me try to explain myself? Gently? I don’t want to hurt her._

_YOU WILL HURT HER MORE IN THE END BY PURSUING THIS._

_I know. I don’t want that, either._

_YOU MUST DECIDE._

_I know._

“Anders…?” Hawke was staring at him, the tiniest bit of apprehension creeping into her expression.

Faint wisps of icy blue had begun to show in his eyes. He blinked, and they were gone, just those heartbreakingly sad pools of amber that she often dreamed about.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning away from her, to her great disappointment.

Fenris had stopped and was watching them, his hand on his sword.

“Sorry for what? Wait!” Hawke called after Anders, as he strode away from them.

He did not answer, only quickened his pace.

“What about Merrill?! I told her to make tea for five!”

Fenris relaxed a little as Anders disappeared around a corner.

“I don’t even like tea,” he muttered.

Hawke looked at him, desperate for some kind of explanation he couldn’t give her. He hadn’t even heard the whole conversation, having blocked the two of them out when ‘cats’ had become some metaphor for sexual partners or something.

She shook her head. She wasn’t about to go chasing after Anders to demand answers or to drag him reluctantly to tea.

“Me neither, honestly,” she finally admitted to Fenris with a sigh. He seemed to be waiting expectantly for her to decide whether or not they were still headed to Merrill’s or in pursuit of the Abomination. “Coffee is better,” she offered, nodding definitively.

“I prefer wine. Made from the blood and sweat and tears of slaves in Tevinter.”

“I’ve noticed. It's a bit...disconcerting, to be honest!" Hawke snorted. It seemed she _could_ , in fact, pick up on his humor. "But alas, we agreed to visit. And it looks like we’ll be drinking Anders' portion, too.”

“ _You_ agreed.”

“On _your_ behalf!”

“Fine…” He supposed he had nothing better to do. And Isabela would probably be pleased to see him participating in some kind of normal, routine social activity. He didn’t imagine she enjoyed tea parties much, either, but she _did_ seem to enjoy the company of the little Dalish elf.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the metaphors and foreshadowing here are obvious if you read how these relationships play out in later chapters/works in this series. And if they're not, it's because I am a terrible writer. :)


	3. In Memoriam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Karl's birthday, and Anders has spent most of it silently sulking. But Hawke refuses to let him go home and wallow alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between first and second act, just before Hawke moves into the family estate.

\---

It was the 13th day of Guardian. It would have been Karl’s birthday today. Even after they had been separated, Anders always sent him a gift. Sometimes just a note, a dirty picture, or an embarrassingly amateurish poem, when he had nothing else to give him, which was usually the case.

Remembering this ritual, and that it had ended, was hitting him especially hard this year. He’d left a scathing note on the Chanter’s Board last year, in memoriam, thinking he was making some bold public gesture. It listed the many ways the Chantry had wronged Karl, and then concluded with “I miss you, my love,” and was quickly covered over within a few hours by a request for some help in rounding up some mages who’d recently escaped the Gallows. Justice didn’t seem to appreciate the tragic irony in that the same way Anders did, as he laughed at himself the way he knew Karl would have, and the spirit nearly went on a rampage. So he decided not to make a yearly tradition out of it.

But he still felt like he needed to commemorate the occasion somehow, and the burden of finding a fitting way to celebrate the birthday of his deceased lover was weighing heavily on him.

Anders hadn’t said anything to anyone about it all day. Justice knew he was troubled, but Anders was doing all that he could to keep him out of this part of himself. This was one of the few things that remained his own, from before Justice. And he cherished the melancholy in a way the spirit could not understand.

But everyone else could see he was struggling, too. He had been especially sulky, and his somber mood had begun to rub off on them. After a quick round of drinks at the Hanged Man to celebrate surviving another ridiculous run-in with giant, murderous spiders and Hawke’s impending move to her family’s old Hightown estate, they each went their separate ways for the evening. No Wicked Grace. No drunken brawls. Everyone just seemed to want to call it a night.

Hawke followed Anders back to Darktown, keeping some distance. She was determined to figure out what was wrong, especially since they’d successfully pressured that greedy shit, Hubert, to give his miners in the Bone Pit a 10% raise and a hefty Wintersend bonus. Usually, sticking it to the man put Anders (and Justice) in much better spirits than this!

As they reached the clinic, Hawke suddenly emerged from the shadows, placing herself between him and his intention to wallow alone in his own misery and heartbreak.

He just looked at her with a blank stare. As if she was simply a wall in his way. He knew she’d been following him. And she knew that he knew, because he’d unarmed his nighttime wards and the alarms Varric had setup for him as they passed. But she was expecting more of a reaction than _this_.

“Anders...you seem...down.”

“Huh?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh. No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. And you don’t need to follow me home. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“Anders, I’ve been trying to flirt with you all day, and you’ve been totally not into it. I think I may have sprained an eyelid trying to bat my eyes enticingly at you back at the Hanged Man. I appreciate you making me work for your attention and all, but I think I might have done permanent damage. You should probably check it out.”

She opened her ultramarine eyes comically wide at him, standing all the way up on her tiptoes, putting her eyeballs directly in his face.

He didn’t even crack a smile. She took it as a challenge. A sort of one-sided staring contest. She leaned even closer to his face, nearly touching the tip of his nose with the bridge of her own, opening her eyes even wider, refusing to blink in spite of the caustic stinging air down here below the city.

“Um, do you see anything? Cuz I think I might actually be blind now. Can you fix that with magic, too?”

“Justice does not approve of my feelings for you,” his voice was cold, distant, purposefully devoid of emotion. He sounded like one of the Tranquil mages that worked outside the Gallows. And he was doing his best to avoid actually looking her in the eyes, though she’d made it almost impossible for him to look anywhere else. He took a small step backward and looked down at the ground between them.

“Um, so?” She rocked back onto her heels and blinked a few times to bring some moisture back into her eyes. “I can prove him wrong.” She was going to go ahead and count this as a win for herself, even if her eyes were feeling a bit red and itchy. He had been the first to back away, after all.

“So, we cannot...do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because Justice doesn’t think -- “

“Ok, but what do _you_ want?” She blinked again, and looked up at him, burning with impatient hopefulness. She already knew what he wanted. She’d known for awhile how much he wanted to be with her. But he always found excuses. Always avoided the serious conversations. Always disappeared when things got too close to something more than just flirting.

She needed him to say it. Just to give her _something_ nice to think about as she laid awake aching for him tonight alone in her filthy bed at Gamlen’s squalid apartment, hopefully one of her last nights in that place.

He swallowed hard, and finally looked at her. His eyes were like the pools of honey she adored, but, like, positively _boiling_ under her gaze. She couldn’t tell if he was about to burst into tears or run away or devour her. It didn’t look like he knew, either.

But he couldn’t keep refusing her in this current fragile state. Not when he was missing Karl so badly. Not after she’d tried so hard all day to cheer him up, just like Karl used to in the Circle when he missed his mother or refused to speak to anyone. Not when she looked at him like this, with those almond-shaped eyes blazing electric blue fire through every hesitation he could muster.

Justice be damned. He was still a man!

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him, pressing his lips, his whole mouth, against hers. She was caught a bit off guard by this sudden shift in his demeanor, from nothing to everything all at once, and she pressed back against him, just to steady herself against the whirlwind that he was.

Anders pulled away, suddenly worried he might have been too bold, or that he might be suffocating her. He often forgot how large he was. His long lanky frame wrapped around her was a reminder that he wasn’t nearly as small, or as weak, as he often thought himself to be. “I’m...sorry. That was…”

She stood up on her tiptoes, and pulled his mouth back to hers, before he could finish his apology or voice any regrets, matching his hunger, wanting even more of him, begging him not to disappear into himself again. She pulled his lower lip in between her teeth, forcing his mouth open, then pushed her tongue inside.

She didn’t want to let him go. Never again. But alas, they needed to breathe eventually. And they were still standing out in the open. It wouldn’t do to just collapse into an amorous heap there in the filthy sewers, though the thought had certainly crossed Hawke’s mind. More than once.

After they’d both had a chance to catch their breath, eyes searching each other for some mutual understanding about what this meant, Hawke decided to break the silence with a backhanded compliment.

“You’re a better kisser than I thought you’d be.”

Anders tried to hide the satisfied smirk that had crept across his lips. “Is that so?”

“Bethany always complains that none of the Circle mages here are any good at it. But things must be different at Kinloch Hold.”

“Nah. No one really has much time to perfect the art when you’re just fumbling around in closets and dark hallways, I suppose. Perhaps your sister should give lessons from the outside...”

“Is that how you learned? From an apostate?! Scandalous!”

Anders was hesitant to dredge up all the baggage of his formation as a skillful lover just after their first kiss, but he sighed. He needed to talk to someone other than Justice, who was fuming in his subconscience at the moment.

“My magic revealed itself pretty late. I was 13, an unruly teenager, when I was turned over to the Circle by my own father, and I spent lots of time hustling my way inside and out of Kinloch Hold. I had more life experience than most of the others, and, because I was often on the run, I developed some additional skills that came in handy when I worked at the Pearl in Denerim.”

“Oh...I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you were -- Maker, I’m an idiot.”

“No. It’s okay. I was rather fortunate, considering what my life could have been. I was never raped or abused...sexually, anyway. But for the longest time, I mostly used affection, if you could even call it that, as a tool. For manipulating people. And I was pretty damn good at it. It used to drive Karl mad seeing how I could flirt my way out of _almost_ anything. Thankfully, he never knew for certain about some of the more desperate things I had to do outside of the Circle, though I'm sure he had his hunches.”

“Anders, if you want to slow things down, or end this now...I didn’t mean to trap you here. Like this. I mean, I sort of did. And I would very much like to kiss you again. And again. If you want me to! Or I can just stay and listen. Or go, if you want?" She was suddenly a rambling mess. "I just thought you were having a bad day, and I wanted to...I dunno...cheer you up. Or just make sure you were alright...Maker, take me. I’m ruining everything, aren’t I?”

“No, love. I’m glad you followed me home. Three years I’ve tried to resist this, and it’s become unbearable. Justice may not think this is a good idea, and he’s probably right. This _will_ be a disaster. But I can’t live without it. Justice can’t seem to understand how much it has been killing me to know that one or both of us could die tomorrow and I wouldn't have told you how I feel about you.”

She leaned into him again, her chin lifted high, grinning like an idiot. “Well, in the interest of keeping you, his treasured host, alive and well, I would think he could make some concessions.”

“I can’t give you a normal life, Hawke. If you’re with me, we’ll be hunted, hated. The whole world will be against us.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah...persecuted to the ends of the blighted world...whatever. I’m already _with_ you, Anders. I hope you’ve noticed that I’ve _never_ been a huge fan of the Chantry, or the Templars. Too serious. Not enough drinking. Zero fun at parties.”

Anders was finally smiling. “I’ll be sure and add those to the Manifesto.”

“Good! Oh, and did you forget that my sister is locked up in the Gallows? That my father was an apostate and a prisoner here before that? If I’m going to be caught up in this Revolution you and Justice are planning, anyway, I might as well be getting some…”

Anders laughed. The beautiful ringing sound of it was enough to finally get her to shut up. His eyes were bright again, and sparkling just for her. There he was. In all his brilliant glory. She took a moment to appreciate him. And to catch her breath.

“Would you like to come inside? The Templars have been patrolling again here in Darktown, especially in the evening, and I’d rather not have to waste my amazing kissing skills on one of them.”

“Ok, but I didn’t say ‘ _amazing_ ’...”

“Oh, nevermind then. See you later, Hawke.” He turned away from her with a dramatic flourish and headed into the clinic.

Hawke followed hurriedly after him. “Yes! Of course! Whatever you want to do, I’m here for it. But then, seriously, could you look at my eye? The left one keeps twitching.”

He peeked back through the tattered curtain that acted as the clinic’s door, offering her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her closer to him, peering at her with an amused grin. She leaned further in, expecting another kiss.

“Your eye looks fine, Hawke.”

“If you say so…”

He pulled her the rest of the way inside, and, with a wave of his hand, reset the wards and alarms outside of his clinic.

…

As Hawke made herself comfortable on the least blood-stained cot in the clinic, he took a deep breath to try to calm his racing heart. Somehow between the impulsive kiss they’d just shared, Hawke’s frantic declaration of loyalty, and the lingering fear that she would still reject him or judge him after hearing what he had to say, he was having a hard time wrestling against his overactive flight instincts as he paced back and forth in front of her.

Without thinking much of it, Hawke reached for his hand to calm him. To anchor him. To keep him there, with her. She pulled him down to sit next to her on the cot. This small gesture was just enough to give him the confidence to begin.

“Karl was more than my close friend. He was my first...love,” Anders blurted out. “Lover, too. Boyfriend? That seems so...I dunno.” He had never talked to anyone else about Karl, so he had no external label for their relationship. And he had no idea how Hawke was going to react to discovering that Anders had killed the last person he’d been in a relationship with.

Hawke squeezed his hand, a reminder. Reassurance. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Anyway, we were intimate. For many years while we were together in the Circle in Ferelden. And then, even after they separated us, we continued to correspond as lovers. Well, I did. He tried to distance himself. To ‘let me go.’ So I could escape without worrying about him, and be truly free.”

_YOU HAVE KEPT MUCH OF THIS HIDDEN FROM ME. WHY?_

_You are a spirit. You don’t understand. And do you remember what happened when we saw Karl in the Chantry three years ago? Why would I want to risk unleashing Vengeance again? It’s hard enough keeping it together as it is with all the other shit we see and deal with._

_BUT I CAN HELP YOU WITH THIS PAIN._

_No. I don’t want it to go away. I don’t want to forget._

_YOU ARE RIGHT. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND._

_Please, just...let me have this conversation. With her. She’s the one who needs to know._

Justice went silent again. Sulking back into the depths of Anders’ subconscience. Anders had always been taught that spirits and demons could only be purely themselves, the virtue, or the vice. But Justice seemed almost... _jealous_. He wasn’t sure where that fit within justice or vengeance.

“It didn’t work, though, did it?” Hawke asked, a wry smile that took Anders a few moments to comprehend. How long had he been silent and staring off into space?

“No. Of course not! The first chance I got, I tried to come here, to get him out, or, if it came to it, I was even ready to join him in the Circle here so we could be together. Disguised or something. I don’t know. I didn’t really think through much beyond just escaping.”

Hawke imagined Anders with a fake mustache pretending to be someone called ‘Ansel’ turning himself in to the Templars in Kirkwall, and tried not to laugh. Now was probably not an appropriate time for laughter.

“I got caught, of course. I was still just a dumb kid, barely past my Harrowing. It only took me about another decade and the good fortune of being scooped up by the least Wardenly Warden that ever Wardened, Commander Brosca. But, as you know, by the time I eventually got here, it was too late. They made him Tranquil as punishment for our continued relationship. Took away his ability to even _have_ feelings for another person. And then tried to use him to get to me.”

Anders paused. He was staring at the empty space in front of him. Things he hadn’t even dared to realize himself had suddenly dawned on him.

“What happened to Karl was all my fault. Every bad thing that ever happened to him...was because he cared about me. And because I was too selfish to let him go.”

Justice began to stir again.

_No._

“I’m sorry he was taken from you. Neither of you deserved this.”

She didn’t try to correct him, didn’t try to convince him it wasn’t his fault. And for that, he was actually grateful.

“Me too. Today would have been his birthday.”

“I’m sorry.” Hawke didn’t really know what else to say. Her heart was breaking for him, and for Karl, who must’ve seen in Anders what she saw, and wanted nothing more than to make him happy and keep him safe. And simply because they were mages, they were punished for this, for daring to love. Without love, there could be no humanity. They might as well have just made them all Tranquil. This is why her father had fled the Circle when he’d met her mother. Why her entire childhood and upbringing had revolved around keeping her sister out of one. Why she would fight with all she had to prevent the Templars from taking him from her, too. Heartbreak gave way to anger.

She was still holding his hand, squeezing it tighter than before. He looked down at it, and placed his other hand on top, then pulled them to his lips. His kiss was soft, tender, cooling on her burning skin. She felt a tear drop from his face to her hand. She didn't even realize he was crying.

“Thank you. I’ve never told anyone any of this before. And if you wish to leave things as they are between us...”

“No! What happened to Karl doesn’t have to happen to me. And I won’t let it happen to you, either.”

“Hawke...”

“I’m not a mage. I’m a newly-rich soon-to-be-Noblewoman, remember? There are _some_ perks. The most important being that I won’t be locked away and made a zombie just because I love somebody.”

“Sure, but certainly, you realize there are plenty of other risks.”

“You kissed me, Anders. Sorry, but now you’re stuck seeing this through.”

“And endangering the life of another person I care about? You must promise me that if necessary, you will let me go. I can’t let you suffer because of me like Karl did.”

“You are asking me to do something that you already said you couldn’t do yourself. You couldn’t let go of Karl, so what makes you think I would ever let go of you?”

“You are stronger than me. You have to be.”

Hawke rolled her eyes. “Would it help if I distracted you from all this melodramatic nonsense with lurid details of my own romantic history?”

“If you’d like…”

“Well, you should know that Isabela and I _have_ made out a few times.”

“Who hasn’t made out with Isabela, though?”

“Right...?” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about what had just happened with Fenris a few days ago after they’d taken care of Hadriana in the slavers’ caves. It was a random, one-time thing, she was sure. Brought on by some crazy combination of alcohol, the rush of victory, and pent-up anger. Fenris certainly hadn’t brought it up, or shown any sign that he ever intended to. It was like it had never happened. And Hawke thought that was probably for the best.

“Do you want something to drink?” Anders asked, realizing he’d been a terrible host so far.

“Maker, yes! Do you have any whiskey?”

“One of my patients insisted on ‘paying' me with this bottle of Mackay’s Epic a few days ago. Justice wanted me to dump it out, after remembering the effect it had on our friend Oghren, but he’s off pouting in some dark corner of my subconscience, so...should we open it?” The truth was that it had been one of Karl's favorite indulgences, too, and Anders couldn't bring himself to get rid of it.

“Yes, duh.”

Anders grabbed two glass flasks from his potions table that he was reasonably sure were clean, and gave them each a very generous-sized pour from the bottle.

Hawke lifted hers toward him. “For Karl. On his birthday. Fuck the Circles, fuck the Templars...and the Chantry!”

“May he rest in peace.” Anders lifted his glass to touch hers, a sad, but grateful smile in acknowledgment. This would do just fine.

“Cheers!”

“Aye…”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an insomnia add, so I apologize for typos or sentences that begin and forget to end.


	4. Easy...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Anders making out all over Lowtown, Justice cockblocking, and a little cuddling, nevertheless.

...

Before they even realized it, the bottle of whiskey was more than half gone, both of them absentmindedly refilling their glasses before they’d even emptied them while exchanging stories of their pasts.

Hawke was midway through telling Anders all about the time Carver had gotten himself stuck in the bell tower of the Lothering Chantry trying to spy on the Chantry sisters as they did their laundry. She had told her little brother, who was 11 at the time, that they each only had one set of clothes, so they all got naked in the courtyard on laundry day. He had climbed the far side of the tower to take a look, making Bethany stand below as his lookout.

“Your sister must’ve been ready to piss herself, worried someone might catch them!”

“Of course! Mother always pretended to be very pious, and it would’ve been mortifying for her if they’d have gotten caught, and Bethany knew it. Not that any of the stuff I’d told them about naked Chantry sisters was true. But still...”

“So how did Carver get down?”

“Well, Bethany came running home to Father as soon as there was any sort of problem. And since I was the one who told Carver there’d be naked women to spy on, I was put in charge of getting him down safely and…discreetly.”

“Good thing you are so good at being subtle,” he teased.

“Hey! You know I can be sneaky when I want to be…but there _was_ a lot of cursing. Carver cried. Bethany, too, of course. I threatened to just throw him down at one point when he refused to keep climbing. But we eventually made it to the ground. And that’s how we learned that he was terribly afraid of heights.”

“He may actually find his work in the Deep Roads well-suited, then. We’ll have to be sure and invite him to the top of the Chantry next time he’s in town.”

“His last letter made it sound as though that wouldn’t be any time soon. I hate to admit that I actually miss the little shit,” Hawke sighed. “And Bethy, too, of course, even though she’s not as hard to visit.” She took another slow sip of her whiskey to quell the rising lump in her throat.

“I’ve heard from some of my contacts in the Circle that Meredith is planning on limiting familial visits, as a means of ‘clamping down’ on escape attempts,” he grumbled.

“What?! But that’s…” Hawke looked enraged for a moment, before her face twisted back into its usual defiant smile. “I’ll just tell Cullen to make an exception, then. He can never say no...to me _or_ Bethany.”

Anders frowned.

“Don’t worry, you grump! There’s absolutely nothing there…for _me_ , anyway…”

He wanted nothing more than to kiss the smug little grin that had appeared right off of her lips, and claim her all to himself, no matter how irrational and immature he knew this bit of jealous possessiveness was. He leaned toward her, suddenly feeling the full effects of the whiskey, and almost tumbled over sideways, opting to land instead in her lap, looking up at her with a hapless smile.

She looked down at him and _tsk_ ed. “You are a lightweight.”

“Am not! I didn’t used to be, anyways…at Vigil’s Keep, they once challenged me to a drinking contest!”

“Oh yeah? And how did that go?”

“I lost.”

“Can’t you do some magic or something to pull yourself together enough to kiss me again, at least?”

“Actually…” He closed his eyes, and she felt the healing energy flowing through him, bits of it leaking out into her, as well.

“Wait! Not _completely_ sober! You have a nice rosey glow to you that I haven’t seen in awhile. And you just keep smiling. Can you stay drunk enough to stay happy for a little bit longer?”

“I don’t need to be drunk to be happy with you, Hawke.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean…drunk enough to still say stupid shit like that. Perfect!” She leaned down and tried to kiss him sweetly on the forehead, but he grasped her face in both of his hands and pulled her lips to his mouth instead.

...

After a few more fevered kisses, Anders hilariously offered to ‘escort’ Hawke home to Gamlen’s Lowtown apartment, even though both of them knew he was probably the one most in need of an escort. His thin, hunched-over frame was far too tempting for muggers and thugs who were too stupid or blind to see his ‘walking stick’ for what it actually was and the underlying strength and fury of a spirit of Justice inhabiting him. Not that Anders couldn’t defend himself without Justice or Hawke’s help. But if he wasn’t careful, someone might take notice of his primary means of defense and report him to the Templars.

Hawke, when she wasn’t trying to be invisible, had a way of stomping around, her daggers flashing behind her as dangerously as her smile and her piercing blue eyes in the darkness. She wasn’t unknown to the low-lives of Kirkwall, either, having worked with Athenril’s crew for a year, and they rarely made the mistake of bothering her, unless someone had put out a hit on her, which wasn’t uncommon, but Varric usually gave her a head’s up on that sort of thing, and the regular criminals had stopped being so eager to take those contracts, anyway.

None of this really seemed to matter, though, since they were almost entirely focused on each other. Specifically, how much of each other they could hold onto and kiss. Ducking into alleys and pulling each other into every little alcove they passed, laughing like naughty children as they came up for air in between sloppy, half-drunken kisses, you’d think they were in some other city where over half the inhabitants _weren’t_ somehow interested in robbing, imprisoning, or murdering at least one, if not both of them. And perhaps _because_ they were so out of place, and very clearly mad, they were, for the most part, left alone.

When they had somehow finally made it up to Gamlen’s little dirty apartment, she leaned her back up against the door in front of him and pressed her index finger to his mouth. Then whispered loudly, “Shhhhhhh...you’ll wake up Gamlen. Or Mother. Or Bethany. Or...oh wait. Nevermind. The fucking Templars took her.”

She launched into a string of curses against the Templars and the Circle and the Chantry that made him want to get on his knees right then and there in front of her and convey all of his appreciation and love, concluding with a marriage proposal, or something even bigger, whatever that could be, but he thought better of this plan, considering it _was_ a little chilly out. And she wouldn’t have taken him seriously, anyway.

Hawke opened the door, cursing still, as it creaked loudly, and pulled him in behind her as her dog greeted them with a happy wagging tail and a toothy, slobbery grin.

“Just pet her so she doesn’t keep whining," Hawke somehow managed to whisper louder than if she’d just been shouting at the poor dog. "Shhhhh...PORK! Shhhhh…”

She was actually the only one of them making any noise, while Anders clung tightly to her waist and buried his head into her shoulder, dragging his lips along her collarbone and savoring the scent and taste of her. Sweat and whiskey and sea salt from the always humid Kirkwall air.

He also made sure to give Pork a few scritches behind her floppy, uncropped ears and an acknowledging wink as if to say _I intend to take good care of her...do not fret._ He felt a little bit of Justice creeping into that sentiment. And so did Pork, who always seemed the least bothered by the spirit’s presence, though this was admittedly a different situation from their many battles together.

Hawke hastily dragged him into the bedroom she had up until recently shared with her sister, the empty bunk a painful reminder of the cruelty of an unjust system that ripped families apart in the name of... _what, exactly? Fear? Dubious religious interpretation? INJUSTICE!_

He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want Justice to be here right now with them. He didn’t want to have to be an abomination, an apostate, a rebel, a rogue Warden terrorist revolutionary or whatever else he was to the rest of the world. He wanted to just be here...alone with Hawke. With her, more than anyone else since Karl, he felt like he could just be him.

She was staring at him -- love, desire, and anticipation overflowing from her expectant ultramarine eyes. Just him. Just her. No monsters or slavers or hitmen or Templars. It was almost embarrassing how much love she seemed to be projecting toward him when there was no one and nothing else to distract her. What had he done to deserve all of her attention so suddenly?

 _Surely_ , he thought, _I don’t._

He waited for Justice to chime in, but he remained silent. Anders was beginning to worry that he'd really hurt the spirit's feelings. But then, he wasn't really sure if spirits even _had_ feelings.

“I’m sorry we have to be quiet like fucking teenagers sneaking around. That’s kinda a little bit hot, though, right?”

She winced and let out a little, insecure laugh. Maybe the alcohol was starting to wear off, but she was suddenly feeling a little bit nervous. She loved him so much. What if she messed this up?

“Mmhm.”

“I know...I’m a grown woman living with my dirtbag broke-ass uncle and overbearing mother in a disgusting flea-infested hovel. But that’s about to change. The estate in Hightown, with the tunnel that leads right to your clinic! We’re so close to untangling the mess Gamlen made of the family’s name and properties, and I’ve finally been able to sort out all the money we made from the Deep Roads expedition --”

Anders laughed, graciously interrupting her nervous rambling. “You seriously think _I_ care about any of that? You’ve seen where I live. _How_ I live...even _t_ _his_ is luxury by comparison.”

“I’m just saying, it’s not the best place for... _you know_. But even so, I hope you still...because I -- I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. Months, really. Maybe years? Oh Maker, this is so fucking embarrassing. Why am I still talking?”

She blushed, looking down at her own hands. What had suddenly changed between the two of them? They’d been incapable of keeping their hands and mouths off of each other outside and now she was stammering like an idiot just to fill the awkward lull. She was a rogue, damnit. She was fierce and merciless and she took what she wanted. But why was she suddenly such a mess?

Because this was Anders. She had never felt this way about anyone ever. His interest or disinterest in her right now could make or break her.

 _Do something, you idiot. She thinks you’re not even interested!_ The inner voice he recognized as his own was scolding him in Justice’s absence.

He pulled her towards him, his long arms wrapping around her again. The increasingly-familiar and intoxicating scent of her was enough to motivate him into action.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “Hawke.”

“Anders.” She more breathed his name than spoke it.

“I’m sorry for my current sorry state, but I think I love you. Ever since the moment you burst into my clinic and demanded that stupid fucking Deep Roads map for some reckless, greed-fueled mission that I am still nevertheless so grateful for ONLY because it brought us together.”

_Well, it’s a start._

She laughed ruthlessly, her insecurities banished by his over-the-top declaration of love that somehow still managed to remind her that he was, in fact, willingly possessed by a spirit of Justice. She pressed her hands into his robe, grabbing for his belt, while he pulled at the straps of her dagger scabbard with one hand and began loosening the laces of her leather cuirass with the other. He was much more efficient with the bodice than the scabbard, which she eventually had to help him with, tossing it, daggers flying out across the room and hitting the opposite wall with a loud scrape of metal on stone as she cringed and then laughed again, filling the dark room with her own special kind of irreverence.

After he’d freed her top half, pulling her tunic up over her head, he held her close and kissed her again, while she grabbed at his hips underneath the layers of robe and cloth, and pressed her bare chest against him.

Another kiss, then she just pulled him clumsily down on top of her onto the floor. He wasn’t sure if she’d lost her balance or if she was just growing impatient. He supposed both were entirely possible and equally endearing. But looking down at her beneath him, her bare chest heaving, her electric eyes still so full of love and eagerness for him, he was suddenly overwhelmed with emotions he couldn’t quite process on his own.

_YOU ARE CONFLICTED BECAUSE YOU KNOW THIS WILL MAKE THINGS MORE DIFFICULT._

_They already are difficult. Everything is always difficult. This is the easiest thing I’ve ever done..._

_SHE LOVES YOU._

_And I love her._

_BUT YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY PROMISE YOUR ENTIRE SELF TO HER. IT IS SELFISH OF YOU TO PURSUE THIS KNOWING WHAT YOU MAY HAVE TO DO._

_I’m a human being! You can’t understand the way I feel about her...Spirit._ He wanted that last part to sting. He was actually _trying_  to hurt Justice’s feelings now.

_THIS IS WHY I CAUTIONED YOU ABOUT CONSUMING ALCOHOL AND BEING ALONE WITH HER._

_Fuck off!_

_I KNOW THE DESIRE TO BE LOVED IS STRONG IN HUMANS. BUT IT IS A DISTRACTION FROM OUR GOALS AND WILL ONLY LEAD TO MORE PAIN._

_I said FUCK OFF!_

Although the spirit seemed to have gone quiet again, probably back to pouting in some dark corner of Anders’ psyche, he couldn’t shake the warning, the sense that he was destined to hurt her as she laid there beneath him, so vulnerable and in love. He knew Justice was right, and it made him hesitate again.

“Hawke...I just -- I can’t. I’m sorry. You’re too beautiful. Or I’m too drunk. Or not drunk enough, perhaps.”

“What’s wrong? What did I do? Was I too forceful? I’m sorry! Should we try something else? More kissing?! You can be in charge! I’m easy...whatever, however, or not at all!”

“No. You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. You’re wonderful. This is all wonderful. Almost perfect, except…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Please don’t interpret this as me not wanting to. Not wanting _you_. I’m just...it’s been awhile since anyone has looked at me the way you do. And it’s got me a little fucked-up is all. And Justice -- no, it’s not his fault...I just -- ”

“Okay,” she tried to catch her breath, to compose herself. She was trying really hard not to sound disappointed, which he knew was difficult for her.

She looked down, then back up at him again with a hint of panic. “You did just say you loved me though, right? Tell me I didn’t imagine that?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I did. And I do. And I’m sorry. I really am. You can, hopefully, tell there is no limit to my desire for you.” He nodded toward his cock.

“Yeah. I _knew_ I hadn’t imagined _that_. Are you sure you don’t want me to...y’know…?” She made a lewd gesture that only made him love her more. “I can stop looking at you like this, too…” She gave him one last intensely-loving look, then her face twisted into a grimace and she laughed nervously as she began searching for her discarded shirt.

He reached for her chin and gently lifted her face back up to look at him. “No. Please don’t.  _That_ would break my heart.”

“Wow, okay. That’s a lot of pressure. What if I fall asleep? I did have just a _bit_ to drink tonight...”

Anders laughed. It was a relief to Hawke to hear it, since things had suddenly gotten so... _serious_. She was never very comfortable with earnestness. But Anders was often earnest, so she was learning how to cope with that, or at least trying to. It helped that he could seemingly flip a switch and be a complete smartass just as quickly as his warm amber eyes could very nearly bring her to tears.

“You have my permission to fall asleep, and I will try to keep my heart in one piece through sheer force of will, and maybe a little magic.” He winked. He was _such_ a good winker.

“Good. Tell Justice to help with that. I have a feeling he had something to do with me not getting laid tonight. Or maybe we should’ve just stayed at the clinic? I know the ambience here can’t compare to bloody cots and the smell of boiled elfroot.”

Anders shook his head and smiled. “Is it alright if I hold you and just lay next to you in disbelief that such a person is willing to put up with my bullshit?”

“Yeah, fine.” She smiled at him, blushing, and trying desperately to hide it.

He offered her a hand as he stood up, wrapping his robes back around himself and leading her to her own filthy little bed.

Anders alone barely fit lengthwise, but he managed to curl himself around her, filling the empty, unused spaces and corners against the wall, which still gave her plenty of room to nestle in comfortably with her back against his seemingly-concave chest.

“Comfy?” she asked, expecting the answer to be no. _Nobody_ could ever be comfortable in this little shitty bed.

“Mmm...quite,” he purred back at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her even closer to him as he shoved his nose into her hair.

“Is Justice okay with _this_?” Hawke asked, exercising all her restraint to keep from flipping around and kissing him again.

“Probably not. But he’s back to sulking again.”

“I’ll win him over eventually,” she yawned, realizing how easily sleep would come, in spite of all the _feelings_ she had been experiencing.  _Thank the Maker for good whiskey_ , she thought.

“I’m sure you will, love,” Anders sighed.

She felt his healing magic leaking into her again, and she sighed, too, closing her eyes and letting the drowsiness overtake her.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (spoiler: she does! <3)


End file.
